Reds and Greys
by glitteratiglue
Summary: After passing the Bridge Officer's Test, Deanna exerts some of her new-found privileges of rank.


**Author's Note: S7, ep 16.**

**Warning: Sexual content - power play, light bondage, pegging. If that's not your cup of tea then don't read on.**

* * *

Will clinks his glass against hers with a wink. "To the best new commander in Starfleet."

Deanna smiles demurely around the rim of the tumbler, and takes a sip of definitely non-replicated Saurian brandy. It's sharp and fiery on her tongue, with just the right amount of delicious burn as it goes down.

It'll be her second night shift tonight, but they didn't get a chance to celebrate yesterday in the excitement of Data's return, and she figures one drink in her quarters couldn't hurt.

"Mmm," she says, unable to help herself when the noise slips out sounding like a moan. Will's eyes widen just a fraction, and she flashes him a knowing grin.

"It's good, huh?" Will takes a long draught of his own beverage, thanking his lucky stars that he'd managed to win it during last week's parrises squares match on Starbase 42. He'd tackled a young science officer, winning the game with a respectable twelve points. For that, he'd won some pure unadulterated Saurian brandy - the best stuff - and had been looking for a good excuse to open it.

"The perfect way to celebrate," she agrees. Deanna casually sweeps her hair over one shoulder to reveal her neck, as if she isn't even aware of the effect it has on him.

Will shoots her a mischievous look and takes her hand, his fingers lacing into hers, and there's a spark of lust that passes between them that makes her breath catch.

_Come on, imzadi. What are we going to do to _really _celebrate?_

It's a sudden burst of energy in her mind: he's not speaking out loud and that means his thoughts are going in a certain...direction.

She arches an eyebrow, pulls her hand from his and brushes a thumb along the side of her lip, knowing he's watching her all the while with soft eyes that feel like a touch on her skin. It's extraordinary, the pull she has over this man that's like power, but more tangible, like want that thrums beneath her skin. She's always been his equal, of course, but there's something enticing about the new solid metal pip on her collar that matches his.

She sets her glass down, leans forward to take his hand at the same time she leans into his mind. _What did you have in mind, imzadi?_

Will's answering grin is wicked with intent, but his eyes are soft and his fingers are gentle as they stroke across her palm slowly.

_I think you deserve to choose this time, after that grilling you got from the ship's first officer. _His tone is playful, but there's a touch of remorse there.

Will would never treat her differently in a professional situation, but she picks up on his anxiety that he went too far this time, if only to push her to achieve what he knew she could. Deanna makes her face impassive, with no intention of letting him know she's aware of that particular thought in his head.

_Mm, that's true. He's a bit of a jerk, really. _His gaze is calm, but with one brief mind-touch she can feel he's holding back, and her curiosity gets the better of her.

_Of course, if you had something interesting in mind, I could be persuaded, _she adds, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Anything," he says without hesitation, darkened eyes fixing on hers; she can feel he's very much aroused already, at the mere thought of that, and a sudden heat flares between her thighs.

For a moment, there are no words in her throat, at least none that are adequate. He would let her take anything of him that she wants, and it makes her throat tighten to think about that: that Will Riker is not a man for half measures_ –_ in uniform or out of it _– _and when he gives himself over to her control, he really gives _everything_, body and soul and mind.

_Anything?_

_I mean it_. Will's voice in her head is rough, so different from the steady, level tone he's using even while they both feel how much he desperately wants her.

"Is that a challenge?" Deanna's voice is sharp with interest.

Without warning, she pushes a shockingly erotic image into his mind, and it's enough to make him groan and grab her wrist when he sees what she want to do.

"I dare you," he says quietly, his fingers tightening their grip.

* * *

He gasps in a breath as her fingers slide inside gently but insistently, warm and slick and stretching and so, so good.

_Oh, fuck, Deanna...please._

_Mmm. Feels good? _She pushes into his mind at the same time, her other hand tracing circles on his lower back as she eases him into every intense sensation.

_God, yes,_ he answers in a rush, can't stop himself from arching into her touch as she adds another slick finger and suddenly slides them deeper, twists them against that place that has him gasping already, _oh, perfect, yeah, please, _and _why haven't we done this in so long?_

His cock aches, every movement sending a pulse of heat along the length of it that makes him shudder. Will tries to move, tugs against the carefully-tied velvet restraints that are holding his wrists tight against the headboard, and decides that surrender is a much more sensible option. Really, he decided that about an hour ago.

She reaches up to run a hand through his hair, stroking his neck, and leans in close.

"More?" she whispers in his ear, reaches into his mind to feel the acceptance and trust there, but there's...something.

_Just tell me_. She presses a soft kiss to his neck, smiles when he shivers.

He lifts his face from the pillow it's pressed into. "It's been a while," he reminds her, with a breathless laugh that's half a moan as she pulls back.

_I'm not worried_, he hastily clarifies, and he's never meant anything more in his life, because Deanna knows him, they've done this before, and he's never felt more prepared from her careful and extensive efforts.

_I'll go slow. _"Are you ready?"

_Yeah, just – _she catches the moment of uncertainty as he draws in a deep breath, tempered by the way his cock pulses even at the thought of it –_go for it._

There's the delicate touch of her small, soft hand against his lower back, the warmth of her mind reassuring him. He lets out a slow breath and then she's pushing forward, hard and deep and solid and _ohsogood, _and he's tugging against the restraints with a groan.

Her smile is delighted, and more than a little proud in his head.

_More?_

She grins, wanders through his mind until she's found the pleasure centres, at the same time she pushes forward, thick and full Betazoid craftsmanship right – _that feels fucking amazing_, is Will's sudden thought – there inside him.

"Oh, yeah." It's a choked whisper, all he can manage as he pushes back against her and she suddenly slides in deeper, thighs flush with him, as deep as she can go until he can't even breathe.

_Oh, Deanna, please, I need more, you can -_

"Are you okay?"

_Hell, yes, _and that's the truth, even with the slight edge of pain.

The second thrust is even better than the first: long and smooth and _right there, _and by the third, he's moving with her, groaning softly as he rocks into her slow, gentle thrusts.

Will thinks even Deanna's empathic abilities can't fully explain how she knows his body better than he does, the connection they have or the way she can touch parts of his mind that no-one else can, telepath or not: he's shaking already, and _God_, it feels good, and he's damn well on the verge of coming already.

Nails scratch at the small of his back, making him shiver, and he groans, hardly able to suck in a breath, let alone form coherent speech. His wrists pull against the restraints in a way that'll bruise him, but they both know he doesn't even care: he _needs_ those bruises, so he can push up his sleeve at any time over the next few days and see her marks of possession on his skin.

Deanna picks up the pace and thrusts a little faster, encouraged by Will's soft moans and the tightening thread of warm arousal that blooms in her mind.

He's close, so close she can taste it in his mind and feel it coiled beneath his skin, but when she has him like this – vulnerable and wrecked – it's hard to resist the temptation to have a little fun.

Sliding deeper into his mind at the same time she slides deep inside, unmoving, she finds that place where he's on the brink, golden bright-red heat, and presses at it, holding him there.

"Mmm, you didn't think I was going to let you come yet, did you?" she says softly in his ear, nips at the skin and he shudders.

He groans, tries to thrust back at her but he can't, can't even _move _because she's holding him dead still with nothing but her mind.

Her soft laugh is gently teasing, but that's not the whole story: it's rare and beautiful and breathtaking, the idea that Will trusts her to the point where he will literally give his mind over to her without hesitation. It's exhilarating, she thinks: to hold such power over this man who's so used to giving orders and having them carried out, the knowledge that she could make him do _anything_, just for her.

She scratches one nail down his back in one long, continuous, already-reddening line, carefully draws back from his mind, and it's a jolt of sensation that takes him beyond pain and pleasure, to a place where there's nothing but Deanna, and it just _feels, it feels so -_

"Please," he chokes out: it's a desperate sob already - _please, please, Deanna – _and he can't even care that he's begging.

_Please, what?_

_Please let me come._

"Out loud," she says sharply, in a commanding tone he's never heard from her before. "And address me correctly."

Will feels the slight amusement underlying her words that she quickly hides, but everything's superseded by the way his cock throbs painfully against the mattress, and at this point he'll do anything, say _anything _for relief. Deanna's advantage over him is something he's long accepted, especially when it comes with the prospect of such mind-bending pleasure.

"Please - let me come, _commander,"_ he manages to say, wondering when it became such a turn on to address her like this.

Her bright, satisfied smile is a spark in his mind, and he can feel how arousing it is for her to hear him say that, knowing it's just for her.

_I want, want – _he can't say it, can barely form words with any coherency, and tails off with a low groan against the pillow.

_It's okay, I know._

When she's driven the last remnants of command tone from his voice and he can barely even speak, let alone ask for what he wants, she'll still know, because she's inside him in every way, and _nothing_ can beat that.

The heat's building beneath his skin, and his sweat-slick fingers grasp pointlessly at the headboard, pushing back at her –

_don't stop don't don't don't –_

She smiles, hands sliding down to his thighs, nails digging in as she shifts against him and suddenly thrusts deep and hard where it feels perfect and right and –

_I want you to come for me now._

Will gasps out "oh, _God," _and he's coming, hot and messy and _so_ hard; tears bursting from his eyes as he nearly blacks out with the force of it.

Somehow, Deanna's face is pressed against his back and she's holding him tight, still buried inside him, right there with him in his mind, soothing him as he slowly comes down, unable to stop himself from making soft, gasping sounds that are almost sobs.

_Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm right here, imzadi._

Her hands stroke up and down his back, smoothing over the still-trembling skin as she gently inches back; his quiet groan in protest at the loss is mitigated by the kiss she presses to his hair while she unties the restraints with gentle fingers.

There's wonder in her eyes as he turns to meet them, blinks as the room comes back into focus, and suddenly she's the one who can't speak. She's trembling under the strength of so much feeling, amazed and privileged that she can share this with him, this man who's open and bruised and_hers_ in every way (though she would never say it if anyone asked).

"You," he growls roughly, raises his head and wraps a hand round the back of her neck to pull her into a hot, tender, kiss that's full of what he can't say out loud – _that was amazing, _or even _thank you,_ _I needed that so much_, and the deeper truth underlying it: _I'm so proud of you._

She gets up and Will's head falls back to the pillow, exhaustion suddenly washing over him in waves. He's hardly aware of her absence, drifting in and out of consciousness, until he feels the bed's weight shift beneath him. Deanna's there, back in the blue uniform with three pips that looks so great on her he almost wants to tear it off again and – except, he's not exactly sure he'd be able to move right now.

Her grin is playful, satisfied as she reaches over to ruffle his sweaty, messed-up hair and kiss his cheek.

"I've got the night watch."

"Please tell me I'm on beta shift tomorrow," comes the muffled reply from Will, his face pressed into the pillow.

She reaches for the PADD on the bedside table and taps a few commands into it.

"You are now. Senior staff privileges." She winks at him.

"Mm." The sound Will makes might be _thank you_; it's hard to tell as his mind drifts instantly into a sated, spent sleep.

Deanna allows herself a soft sigh of pleasure at she steps inside the empty turbolift, and grins unabashedly at the thought of a whole night contemplating just how Will Riker is going to repay her for this.


End file.
